thank you for the rain
by doroniasobi
Summary: he's forgotten - and somehow he knows they'd meet again. — AustriaHungary. /for meccanico/
1. a little love song

_**title:**_ thank you for the rain  
**_summary:_** He's forgotten - and somehow, he knows they'd meet again.  
**_pairing:_** Austria/Hungary

* * *

i.

The first time they meet, they're on a train. There's a dank smell of everything everywhere and he's wondering why in the heck he's doing here, sitting on filthy, padded seats and squashed against tens of hundreds of people. If he'd known, he'd have much preferred to walk. But rather obviously, there was nothing he could do about it now.

Five hours and three minutes later - finally, _finally _- the doors open. He's finally, finally done; he can _breathe_, thank goodness. And then somewhere beside him there is a girl that suddenly falls and Austria thinks, oh _shoot_, because falling while trying to get off something as crowded and full of people like a train simply cannot be a good thing. He's not sure what happens after that, but only mere seconds later he's walking towards her and talking to her and he's putting his arm out and well, she's _taking _it, and his heart (_maybe_) flutters a bit, like a bird's wings; they're trying to work, but can only manage a small, almost painful batting flutter.

'I'm sorry,' she says. He notices her hesitation. But she smiles afterwards anyway, and he dismisses his thoughts, because she speaks again; 'But thank you.'

'It's not a problem.'

He watches her step off and onto the platform, and before he knows it, the doors are closed (again) and the ground under his feet is moving but he's still staring, still thinking that he's seen her somewhere before - he _knows _he's seen her before - and he realizes that it might not have been the first time he's met her. And it's another heartbeat before he realizes -

'Oh. Oh shoot, I'm on a train. Again. _Shoot_.'

* * *

ii.

The second time, he thinks, is at a party. He honestly still can't be sure; memories are ripped pages of picture books in his head; fleeting, but lost. Lost, but fleeting. It's strange, but that's okay to him; he'll live in the now.

The party is magnificent, at first glance to Austria. It is almost glimmering before his eyes, with glittering everythings and lacy designs everywhere. Usually, Austria doesn't mind these celebratory moods, but tonight - and tonight in particular - his head is pounding and his temples are groaning against his skull, and when a very snooty-faced Prussia - what was his real name again? - slinks by, tells him that his head might be pregnant, his head only hurts more.

And it doesn't help at all that he's the host of this party. It doesn't help that he doesn't remember everyone - he remembers pictures, but not memories; never _memories _- and he goes around anyway, pretending that he knows exactly what's going on, pretending that he knows exactly who everyone is, even if he doesn't, because he, well, _doesn't_.

In a fleeting moment, there is a familiar face in the folds of the crowds and he stops pretending for a moment to be honest and think (and this time, it doesn't hurt as bad). He can't remember; has he seen her before? She's wearing a veil sort of thing and a flower in her hair and a white, frilly dress, and from behind, she looks awfully _beautiful_. Excusing himself from his conversation with Russia, who is drinking more vodka, he chases after.

And just as suddenly as she'd appeared, there is, once again, nothing. No one.

His head starts hurting again, and he doesn't know why. This time, the images in his head press together tightly and tilt, on a ninety degree angle, and start to move.

* * *

iii.

_'What did we do wrong?'_

_'Nothing.' He presses his lips to her forehead. 'We didn't do anything wrong. We didn't.'_

_She bites her lip. 'Then why did they say we did?'_

_'Don't listen to what they say. Don't.'_

_'I - but, Roderich, I can't _stand _it. Being judged. What did we do wrong? What are we doing wrong? What are we doing now?'_

_'You speak too much.' He grabs her fingers and touches them to his lips. 'I'll have to go now. It's late, Elizavéta. I will see you tomorrow.'_

_'You'll come tomorrow?'_

_'I will.'_

-x-

Austria wakes up in the middle of the night, eyes flaring open and fists clenching his thin, satin bedsheets. His breath comes in short, and his hands grope for his glasses on his bedside table; somehow, they've become a comfort.

And somehow, he breathes in the lingering scent of lemon, lets out a shuddering breath, and closes his eyes, tries to remember exactly what he's seen.

Green. Her eyes are green.

* * *

iv.

Switzerland visits the next day.

'How are you doing?' he grumbles, eyes flicking to one side and arms folded.

'Why do you ask?'

Switzerland stares at him, opens his mouth, but changes his mind. 'Nothing,' he mutters. 'Never mind. It's nothing important.'

'Are you sure?' Austria asks. There is something that tells him that he never visits when there is nothing of importance happening. Switzerland says nothing, only stares at him. 'Tell me,' Austria prompts. _Even if I don't know you. Even if I feel like I should._

'It's nothing.'

'Don't lie to me.'

Switzerland is startled. Austria continues; somehow. 'I know when you're lying to me. Don't lie.'

There is silence. A thick, deepening silence that resembles none of the comforting quietness Austria was very regularly used to. Instead, Switzerland lets out a sigh, and for the first time, Austria realizes that Switzerland is tired - tired to the very, very core, so worn out, dark bags hidden under his eyes; he isn't the same person as the one in his faded images, the ones in his head. He's tired. And still, he's _here_.

'I'm sorry,' Austria says. Switzerland looks at him with hollow eyes. 'I'm sorry,' he repeats, and he smiles sadly. 'I'm - I don't know who you are, what you mean to me, just that you're - you're _here _- and if you're here, and you're _supposed _to mean something to me, maybe - ' He struggles to find the right words, but Switzerland stops him.

'It's okay,' he mumbles. There is sincerity in his tone. 'It's okay, it really is - and just,' Switzerland pauses, sits down next to Austria, turning his face away, but Austria can already see the embarrassment written, blooming across on his face. 'Can I...?'

He's not sure what he wants, but he supposes it's right, because when Austria opens his arms, Switzerland falls.

'You ass,' the boy grits out, hiding his face in his shoulder. 'You - you just _had _to, didn't you? Out of all the years I've known you, _this _has got to be the stupidest thing you've ever done, fucking Roderich. Maybe you should go ._die_ Go and die, you jerk. Or maybe I'll kill you myself.'

There is a tug at Austria's heart, and a familiar name comes to mind.

'Vash,' he whispers, almost - the slightest tremor lacing his voice. '_Vash_.'

Switzerland buries his face deeper in Austria's shoulder and cries.

* * *

v.

'I keep seeing her. everywhere. Why?'

'Don't ask questions I can't answer.'

'But - I can't remember,' Austria says. He rubs at his temples and winces in pain. 'It hurts to try.'

'Then don't,' Switzerland presses his palm against Austria's forehead and jerks it upwards so that their eyes meet, so that Austria sees Switzerland's, bright emerald and blazing. 'Don't remember. Don't try to remember. If it hurts, then just don't. Maybe you'll be better off this way.'

'But I can't forget about her.'

Switzerland holds his breath. Austria narrows his.

'What's wrong?' he asks.

'You've forgotten everything else,' Switzerland says softly, expression hard. 'You've forgotten everything else, every_one_ else. She's just one person. You could forget about one person any day, Roderich. Any day.'

'Stop it.' Austria is grasping at familiarity now. 'What are you saying? Stop it, stop talking about her like that.'

'Oh yeah?' Switzerland challenges, eyes boring into his. 'Make me. You - you don't know because you've forgotten, but - '

'But _what_?' Switzerland flinches, even if he doesn't mean to. Austria has never been the aggressive one, but he's standing up; his face is angry. 'Vash, tell me. What happened to me? Why did I - ' he chokes. 'Why did I _forget_? Why did this happen to me?'

Switzerland all but shouts it out; Austria hears frustration, despair, stubbornness - and everything almost returns. Almost.

'It's because you went after her. It's because of that, okay? She - I don't know what she did, but she ran - and you, being your stupid, emotional self - you went after her. And - I didn't hear all of it, all the details, but - oh fuck, fuck, Roderich, are you okay?'

Austria has his hands to his head. There's a head-splitting pain at the back of his mind, and all he can think is - no. _No_, he's not okay.

* * *

_to be continued._

* * *

**A/N: I have a perfectly good excuse for writing Hetalia!fic. I mean, I don't, but I'll pretend I do. I'd never intended to get into Hetalia in the first place, but _she-who-shall-not-be-named_ pulled me into it. Yeah, pretty fanart is pretty. ;w; But anyway, yeah. I'm thinking this will only be three parts? I'm not sure myself, really. XD But y'know, thank you for reading and all that jazz~  
**


	2. sing me a lullaby

_**part two**_;

_**title:**_ thank you for the rain  
**_summary:_** He's forgotten - and somehow, he knows they'd meet again.  
**_pairing:_** Austria/Hungary

* * *

vi.

_She's running again. She's always running, running without reason, without logic, always just running, running to places he could never reach, running nowhere and still, he'd go after, but he's wondering, still wondering; what exactly is it that they're running from? He's only running because she is; because she would always need him. Because if he doesn't, she'd be lost._

_But what if she runs too far (away from hi, away from _them_)? Even he knows he can't keep chasing, can't keep holding on; there's always a limit to these things, and he knows that. What if the one she is trying to get away from is him?_

_And he doesn't want to admit it, but it will always be him that needs her. Always._

Always_.

* * *

_

vii.

He sneaks out early in the morning for a light walk, even though there is supposed to be a meeting in exactly three hours and forty-two minutes. He passes by the greenery around him, atmosphere still, like raised music notes made of glass hanging in the air, trembling, waiting for the right moment to fall. He pauses, takes a breath in, waiting for his body to stretch itself and hastening the gradual ebb of morning drowsiness.

It's been a long time since he's last been out. His footsteps fall silent to a field of flowers, and for a few seconds, their name escapes his mind.

'Hello there.'

Austria flinches, like he's been burned, and swivels his head around.

'Do you come here often?'

It's the same girl from the train, from his party, and possibly the same girl from his memories. Austria, flustered, opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out, and he looks away, shy and almost in shame.

She laughs anyway, a delicate hand to her lips. 'No need to get nervous; I just thought I'd greet you; I never did get to properly thank you after that incident.'

She's referring to the train and Austria's hopes droop a bit; this means she didn't see him at the party (if it did, in fact, happen to be her, anyway). 'It - ' and he clears his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt, 'it's nice to see you again.'

'It's nice to see you again, too.'

He wonders what she thinks of the silence next; to her, is it comfortable silence? Is it an awkward pause? And what does she feel, when she's standing in front of him? (He wonders if her heart is beating as fast as his is, wonders if she feels that right now, they're the only two people in the world. Sometimes, he wonders too much, and he wonders if she does, too.)

Something suddenly comes over him, like a big, refreshing wave splashing over his face. 'Um,' he calls out, fisting his hands, 'tell me - do I know you?'

There's a flinch - a very small one nonetheless, and he knows that it could not have been a 'trick of the light', or a 'fleeting nothing' (and of course, it's because he wears glasses - even if he doesn't need them).

He almost calms down, but there is one nerve standing on end. 'Tell me,' he says, so that only the two of them can hear. 'Will you tell me who you are?'

In a moment, she's gone. Rather, not gone; 'gone', so that he can still see the small of her back getting smaller and smaller and smaller - so that he can watch and let his heart drop to his stomach and think:

_She's always running. Always - always, always, always.

* * *

_

viii.

That night, he remembers the name of those flowers in the field that morning.

'Tulips,' he whispers to himself, lying in bed. His glasses are off and his eyes are empty, with empty words running through his head, letting them pound for every second he thinks.

It is three twenty-four and three seconds in the middle of the night when his head gives him a headache and so he closes his eyes, picturing flowers before his eyes fall close. Lost memories swim before his eyelids and press together, swirling him into dreamless sleep.

* * *

ix.

Switzerland clatters a plate of food onto the table.

'Eat,' he demands. 'Don't forget your manners; you're a grown man. This is the least you can do. Got it?'

'Harsh,' Austria comments, smiling a little bit. 'Thank you, Vash.'

Switzerland snorts indignantly, rolling his eyes. 'At least I have the generosity to not kick someone who's already down.' He narrows his eyes. 'Or fallen all the way.' There is a small pause there, but Switzerland clears his throat and continues to speak. 'Anyway, you just shut up and eat, stupid Roderich.'

Austria lifts his spoon. 'Have you eaten already?'

'I have.'

'Grumpy, too.'

Switzerland hesitates before asking. 'Have - have you remembered anything else? Anything at all?' And Austria notices that for the first time in the longest, Switzerland's eyes are young and bright, so expecting, so innocent in the way that his muddled memories told him they were. From a young age, Switzerland had always been there. He'd been _there_. And still, somewhere along the way, they'd gone from friends to acquaintances, to people who didn't talk to each other at all.

It was comforting to know that even if the other countries turned their backs on him, Switzerland would always just be _there_, waiting for him to stand back up.

'Let's take a walk after I finish.'

Switzerland stares at him.

'A walk,' Austria repeats.

Vash doesn't respond.

'Vash?'

'Yes.' And he says it so abruptly that Austria blinks in suprise. Switzerland's face is pink and their eyes don't meet, but Austria remembers sincerity - remembers _his _way of showing sincerity - and he smiles, so that it reaches his eyes.

'Yes,' Switzerland repeats, taking a breath. 'I'd like that.'

* * *

x.

It isn't long before something else happens.

This time, Switzerland is standing in front of Austria, a fierce look on his features, looking very much like a mother cat bristled with anger. And at the opposite end, there is her. Austria's breath comes in short, ragged pulses. His head is hurting, his hands are hurting, his eyes are hurting - _everything _is hurting. _Shoot. Shoot, shoot, shoot._

'Roderich,' Switzerland is saying, voice laced with suppressed anger. 'Roderich, get back in the house.' But Austria can't move, he can't speak, can't think -

'I'm sorry.'

And that's _her _voice. And Austria wants so desperately to respond, to speak properly with her, but when his mouth opens, he hears Switzerland's voice instead.

'Get out,' he's saying. 'Get out, get _out _- what are you doing here? Get _out_.' And his arms move backwards to push Austria away.

But _why? Why?_

The girl - she avoids Switzerland's gaze and looks directly into Austria's (he can see tears).

'Roderich,' she says, trembling. 'I'm sorry.'

'I'm so, _so _sorry.'

* * *

_to be continued._

* * *

**A/N: So, the second part! Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, it means a lot, really! :D At first, I honestly didn't know what was going to happen myself, because I had no real plan to this - but I'm glad that all of you like it. There's only one more part left! :D Enjoy!  
**


	3. tell her I love her

_**part three**_;

_**title:**_ thank you for the rain  
**_summary:_** He's forgotten - and somehow, he knows they'd meet again.  
**_pairing:_** Austria/Hungary

* * *

xi.

_'Elizavéta!'_

_She turns around. Her expression is dark and cloudy, and her fists are clenched, trembling. Her dress is caked with mud and her hair has fallen out of place (and the flower he had once given her also). The atmosphere is accompanied by the light downpour of rain. Austria can tell by the determined look in her eyes that she is running._

_Again._

_'Elizavéta,' he calls again, jogging to her side. 'You - you weren't there last night.' _Or the night before_, he thinks. _Or the night before that.

_The rain falls harder. She looks up to the sky, and it is only when she does that Austria realizes that her eyes are lifeless. The Hungary he had once known was not like this. The Hungary he had known was brave, beautiful, and strong-willed. The Hungary standing in front of him doesn't look at all like this._

_'I can't stand it, Roderich.'_

_He doesn't know what she's talking about. 'What?'_

_'I can't - ' And all of a sudden, her features are angry and she's stomping her feet like a child and she's frustrated and her emotions that had previously been bottled just explodes. The rain hits harder to accompany her mood. 'I can't - they - '_

_He draws her in his arms, a flicker of concern firing itself in the pit of his stomach. 'Tell me what's wrong,' he tries to sooth, but she pulls away._

_'Everything,' she grits out. 'Everything. I don't like having to sneak around, Roderick. I don't. We - they don't acknowledge us anymore. I - I don't like it. I hate it, I really do.' A broken sob forces its way from her throat. "Why did we divorce, Roderich? Tell me why."_

_He is at a loss for words. A moment passes, and he sighs. 'I... don't know.' She stares at him, as though expecting for him to say something else, but Austria merely shakes his head._

_'I don't know,' he repeats._

_The rain hits the asphalt harder. Hungary covers her face with her hands, shaking, shaking, shaking. Austria reaches out a hand, but she shakes her head.

* * *

_

xii.

Switzerland tells him. When he does, his face is contorted in pain, a miserable expression dancing across his distinct features. Austria watches him, notices every shuffle he makes with his feet, notices every moment when Switzerland isn't looking at him.

'You didn't tell me.'

Switzerland doesn't say anything.

'You didn't tell me _anything_.'

It is a feeble attempt of defense. 'I didn't want you to - '

'To _what_?' Austria rounds on him, eyes more hurt than angry. 'You _know_, Vash - you know as well as I do that she didn't do anything. She didn't do a _thing_. It was _my _fault. If I hadn't gone after her, none of this would have happened! Why are you always blaming _her_? I - I - '

'Because no one could ever hate you.'

Austria stares at him. Switzerland is still looking away and his head is bowed low and his hair hangs in front of his face. And Austria makes to say something, but nothing comes out.

'So I hate her, because I could never hate _you_.'

Switzerland slides his chair back, stands up, biting his lip. Austria follows suit. 'Vash,' he whispers; he's never seen him this honest in front of him. Or if it was a lie, then Switzerland was making it damn well believable.

'Stupid. I knew it. I knew you'd react like this. That's why I told you. Idiot.' Switzerland lifts his head. 'I'm leaving. I'll speak with you later, Roderich.' There is a small hesitation in his step. 'There's more. But I'll tell you the rest tomorrow.'

'Wait - Vash - '

'I'll be excusing myself now.'

'I - '

But he's already left the room.

* * *

xiii.

_'Let go of me, Roderich - let go!'_

_He doesn't. 'You're going to hurt yourself,' he warns her. She's struggling in his arms, trying to get away, trying to run. 'Stop it, Lizzie,' he whispers, and he can feel the faltering of her movements within his grasp. 'Stop it.'_

_'Why did we have to stop? We could have gone on forever, Roderich. Forever. The divorce didn't have to happen. I wish we would stop sneaking around to only see each other. It hurts.'_

_He holds her tight. He doesn't have any words, he's too young to be wise, but he holds her all the same. 'We'll manage,' he assures her, even if he doesn't quite know how yet. Even if it turns out to be an empty promise. Even if somehow, he finds out he'd be unable to keep it. 'We will.'_

_The rain pours, and Hungary stops struggling, instead leaning towards him for warmth. 'You're all wet,' she sniffs. Her voice is still hoarse. Still cracked. Still beautiful._

_He quirks an eyebrow. 'That's your fault, you little minx.'_

_She smiles a bit. 'I'm sorry,' she says, but Austria knows. He presses his cheek against hers._

_'You need to get home.' He holds his hand out. She stares at it and rolls her eyes before taking it and giggling, pressing it to her cheek. Then she lets go. He looks at her, confused, but she waves it off._

_'I'll go back myself; it'll be suspicious if someone was to catch you. And you're only going to get even more wet.' He rolls his eyes and watches her run._

_He doesn't realize how exhausted he is until his legs give way from under him and his glasses fall in a dirty puddle on the ground. His head spins and his vision blurs and he wonders briefly if he is sick, because he can't be sick; he's got a meeting tomorrow at nine in the morning._

_He also doesn't realize the screeching of car tires in the distance until they're loud - almost right next to his ear. And when he eventually does, all thoughts about staying awake elude him, and he is consumed by the darkness, singing softly in his eat and lulling him into a deep, deep sleep.

* * *

_

xiv.

It is two fifty-one in the morning when Austria's eyes widen. His fists clutch at his bedsheets and he sits straight up in bed, trembling. He doesn't know what's happening this time, either. But tonight, this is a different kind of confusion. Tonight, somehow, the tingling in his body tells him that there is something _different_. So he closes his eyes and thinks, even though he knows he shouldn't. He thinks, even if he knows it will hurt. And for a moment, everything surrounding him disappears. Everything fades, until there is only darkness, only loneliness (and maybe it was because he had feared what was simply and yet not so simply, _fear_).

And at exactly three oh-nine, he snaps his eyes open.

'_Elizavéta_,' he breathes. Everything comes rushing back.

(_Almost_.)

* * *

xv.

This time, it is Austria that goes to find Switzerland. Liechtenstein greets him at the door. Her smile is warm and cute and friendly, contrasting that of her brother's. It is somewhat of a relief, he thinks - to be able to see her face and match the proper name that comes with.

'Hello, Roderich,' she tells him, opening the door wide. 'I have rose tea today; Brother bought it for me the other day.' She blinks. 'Are you well enough to be walking about? Brother will throw a fit if you haven't gotten your proper rest.'

He smiles. 'Hello, Lili.' His smile grows wider when the small girl gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. 'Rose tea would be wonderful, thank you.'

She lets a small giggle escape her lips. 'Of course,' she tells him. 'I shall call Brother - you can wait in the study. He'll be down in a few minutes.'

The blush that blooms across her face is lovely times three.

* * *

xv (and a half).

Switzerland is out of his chambers within five minutes. Austria raises his eyebrow at him when he sees him coming down the stairs, and his only explanation is, 'It's rude to keep a guest waiting.'

Austria rolls his eyes. 'You will never change.'

Switzerland notices the change. 'Your eyes are sparkling,' he tells him.

'Are they?'

Switzerland looks at him for a while. 'They are,' he says quietly. The_ I've missed you_ is left unsaid.

Austria looks right back at him - smiles for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

'Thank you.'

Switzerland snorts. But Austria knows that simply means, _Welcome back_. He takes this statement and holds it so, so very close to his heart, simply because.

* * *

_to be continued._

* * *

**A/N: I lied; I need another part. So there will be four parts in total! Since I've sort of really liked the interaction between Roderich and Vash (oh how I love Vash~) and I'm starting to warm up to the actual pairing I'm writing for here; I started out feeling very neutral about them, but it evolved. Like a Pokemon. YES I JUST SAID THAT. But yeah - I don't know when the last part will be out, so wait for it? :D Thank you for reading, as always!  
**


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